Equal
by Lucibell
Summary: Sequel to You Don't Hate Me. Fire Lord Zuko and the Council have met up with a band of rebellious Fire Nation Soldiers. Katara hasn't seen Zuko for three years. What will become of them all? [ZukoxKatara]
1. I

**I**

The Fire Lord stared at the representatives surrounding the Table before him. Circular to represent equality among all, the sturdy mahogany Table was the center of the grand meeting place of the Nations' Council. After the defeat of Fire Lord Ozai three years earlier, the Avatar and the newly appointed Fire Lord Zuko had commissioned the Table to a poor woodcarver in the western edge of the Earth Kingdom. The carver had eagerly agreed to the hefty sum the Fire Lord was willing to pay for the Table.

And for equality.

Along the outer edge of the Table, the woodworker had skillfully carved surprisingly accurate depictions of tales from each Nation's history. There were no barring separations between them, nor were they in a specific order. No representative sat before his own Tribe's tale, and non sat beside another from their Nation. There was no head of the Table, thought the Avatar was understood to be the leader, and all representatives discussed matters that may only apply to a single Tribe. Such was the way the Council worked.

Each representative was chosen by vote of his people, and each could be overthrown the same way he had been selected. Most, like Fire Lord Zuko and the Avatar, were the leaders of the respective Nations. Others, like Haru and Suki, were from different areas of the same Nation, representing different Tribes.

Now, for the first time since the end of the war, the Council was finally meeting together around the Table of Equality. Previously, matters had been handled by letters sent from one representative to the rest. They had met face-to-face very few times in the past three years. Some had been too busy helping others to meet with them even then, so all nine were never present at any one time.

And now one of the nine representatives was missing from the Table. Zuko hadn't seen her in the three years since his father's defeat and had been thoroughly disappointed when her brother and Haru had told him she couldn't be there. To his left, Aang stood, silently calling order from the seven others around the Table. When all were quiet, he began to speak. All were not expecting the informal speech he gave.

"It's really great to see you all!" After a brief silence, he looked to Zuko. Quietly he said, "You're better at this than I am, so could you…?" Zuko nodded knowingly, reminding himself that the Avatar was only fifteen years old and unaccustomed to a life of leadership. Zuko stood as Aang sat.

Quietly he took in the faces about the room. To the left was Aang, Jun, Haru, Sokka, Jet, Misu, Suki, and an empty chair for Katara was left on his right. He smiled lightly at them all. "Welcome to the Fire Nation. I'm glad to have you all here." Some of them nodded in response, while others murmured their thanks. When all was still once more, he addressed Misu. "I would especially like to welcome our newest representative from the Northern Water Tribe, Misu." Misu nodded while the others agreed with the Fire Lord. Again, the room fell silent and Zuko moved on to more important matters.

"As most of you know, there have been rumors flying about of a band of rebels just south of Ba Sing Sei. Fire Nation and Earth Nation scouts have all confirmed sightings of the rebels' campsite. It is believed that these rebels are the remains of the soldiers and officers were loyal to the late Fire Lord Ozai." He paused here, waiting for any questions or comments. When non came, he continued. "However, because this band of rebels is small and ill-organized, my colleagues and I do not think them a threat. Even so, King Bumi and I, along with the Avatar," he motioned to Aang, "have decided to keep a close military watch on their campsite." He swept his gaze around the room. When no one commented or made any motion to speak, he tuned to Sokka. "I believe the Water Tribes had a few things to discuss…?" Sokka nodded and Zuko sat. Sokka and Misu rose simultaneously.

Sokka had grown in the past few years. He'd been properly trained as a warrior and his instincts, though still not perfect, had become more trustworthy. He maintained the short ponytail and pertly-shaven scalp that was characteristic of him. However, instead of remaining the lanky, ever-hungry boy he had once been, Sokka had grown and developed into a strong, well-toned young man who knew when to ration out food. The Fire Lord was proud of what his friend had become.

Zuko's gaze moved to Misu, the Northern Water Tribe's representative. Much lik Sokka, Misu's features were strong and tanned. He was a little more toned than Sokka, being a more experienced soldier, and his head was cleanly shaven. He had been appointed to the position of representative only two months earlier. The Council had actually only planned to have Sokka and Katara represent the Water Tribes, until it was realized that they could not always travel to the North Pole after every meeting. And so, a representative had been chosen.

Sokka and Misu discussed several trade issues between their lands and the Southern Air Temple, to which case Aang testified. It seemed that there was a band of rebel Fire Navy ships surrounding the Temple's trade routes to the Water Tribes. By the time their story had gotten this far, Sokka and Misu were sitting and a debate had begun to flow. Jun, a Fire Nation representative, brought about an imposing question.

"Why are these rebels only hindering trade between the Water Tribes and the Temple? Why aren't they stopping trade to any other Nation?" She gave Sokka a meaningful look.

Sokka got defensive. "If you're suggesting that the Water Tribes—"

She leaned back in her hcair, "I'm not suggesting anything, Sokka. I'm just curious."

Haru furrowed his brow. "Why?"

Suki gave an exasperated sigh. "They have to have a reason, Haru. Otherwise they _would_ be terrorizing the other Nations."

"I say we catapult them."

Zuko pulled his head from where it had been resting in his hands. "Nobody's catapulting anybody, Jet.'

Jet shrugged. "Just saying."

Aang yawned, pulling back the curtain behind him. It was nearing dusk outside the Fire Palace. "Well, I say we call it a day. Meeting adjourned."

All the representatives gave a collective sigh of thanks. Zuko reminded them that dinner was in an hour as they left him with Aang sitting at the table. Zuko looked mournfully at the chair beside him. He'd been sending glances at it during the whole meeting. Aang's voice floated to his ears.

"You miss her, don't you?"

Zuko nodded, sighing quietly. "Yes, I do."

Aang smiled knowingly. "I think we all do."

Zuko nodded absently, still staring at the unoccupied chair. He nearly jumped when he felt Aang's hand rest on his shoulder. "She said she'd be here for the banquet."

Zuko sighed more heavily this time. "I know… I just would like to see her sooner." Aang said nothing as he patted his friend on the shoulder and left silently. After a time, Zuko stood, moving to the window and pulling back the curtain quietly. He squinted as the sunlight poured into his unaccustomed eyes, but as they adjusted, they relaxed and he silently stared at the sunset, not really seeing it.

The memory of her face swam across his vision. Her clear blue eyes glimmered at him from the recesses of his memory and her chestnut hair floated on an arctic wind long since passed. Her warm tan skin glowed in the light of the sun reflected off of forgotten snow. He could still remember her scent, the touch of her skin against his, her voice. He wondered how much had changed about her, thinking that if she'd changed as much as he had, he would probably scarcely recognize her.

Over the course of three years, Zuko had matured, wizened, and grown. He was now a looming figure, standing six-foot-two. His hair had grown, and instead of sporting a hairstyle similar to Sokka's, he had a full head of long, silky raven locks that he kept pulled back by a silk tie similar to the one he used to wear. The scar on his eye was still there, thought time had done it some good. It had softened, healed, and blended with his skin, and though one would have to be a blind old codger to miss it, it wasn't nearly as striking as it had been.

His eyes were still the same piercing amber that seemed to burn through every barrier of the soul, and his features had hardened, giving him a strong, determined look. Many a woman had been tempted by his looks and tempted him in turn, but each one he had turned down. Over the course of a few months, it became clear that his heart belonged to someone else, and over the course of a few more, everyone in the Fire Nation assumed they knew who it was.

Even Jun herself thought so, though he had never given her reason to do so.

He sighed, resting his hands on the windowsill, sweeping his gaze across the forest just beyond the courtyard before him. He wondered why all the people of the Fire Nation thought hew as in love with Jun. Upon thinking about it more, he supposed it could have been because she was always in his company. But that wasn't his fault! She followed him around like a duckling, and he honestly didn't have the heart to tell her to leave him be.

A soft knock on the door made him straighten. He hoped against hope that it was Katara, finally having arrived and coming to jump into his arms like she used to. But a little voice in the back of his mind told him that this wasn't so, and that she wouldn't be here at least until tomorrow evening at the banquet, if what Sokka, Aang, and Haru had told him was true.

"Come in," he called. The door opened slowly and Jun stepped in, her regulation armor glinting in the waning sunlight streaming through the window. She smiled brightly at him and he nodded in return, turning back to the window. She frowned.

"Something troubles you, my Lord?" That was just like Jun. She was always trying to pry into his mind and soul and to break down his inner walls so that he would let her in. What she didn't understand, like the rest of his Nation, was that she was not the woman he wanted, the woman he had chosen. That woman wouldn't be in the Fire Nation for another day.

That woman didn't even know that he loved her. That he hadn't let go of her for three years. That he couldn't stop thinking about her since he left her at her icy home at the end of the war.

He sighed wearily, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Many things trouble me, Jun..." he replied.

She moved forward and sat at one of the vacant chairs of the Council. "A copper for your thoughts, my Lord?"

Zuko thought about it, he really did. He was going to tell her to back off and leave him be. He was going to tell her that his heart already belonged to another. He was going to apologized for leading her and the rest of his people on like he did.

And just the Fire Lord was about to give in and tell her, he stopped, shaking his head. He took a moment to steel himself, and against his better judgment, turned and flashed her a small grin. His heart screamed at him to stop as he held out his arm to her.

"Accompany me to dinner, Jun?"

He almost winced as she literally leapt out of the chair, agreeing more profusely than was generally normal.

He could only beg forgiveness from Katara as he led her out the door to the Dining Hall.


	2. II

**II**

The next night, the Council could be found in a group by the back entrance to the great Hall of the Fire Palace. Each of them was to be introduced individually, and now they were waiting to be summoned by the host, Iroh. None of them had seen the Hall yet, not even the Fire Lord, so none knew what sort of banquet awaited them. They knew it would be extravagantly decorated, just by looking at the honorable invitations they had received. Accordingly, each Council member, and hopefully each guest, had dressed formally, in attire that was respectful to their Tribes.

Jet was dressed in uncharacteristic, but quite flattering, earthy tones. A deep green tunic with golden thread woven through the fabric framed his muscular form beautifully, and a neatly polished brown leather belt hung loosely at his waist. The hem, sleeves, and collar were discreetly trimmed in tiny gold leaf-patterns that could only be seen if the shirt was examined quite closely, but they added just the right amount of glamour to the shirt that was needed for such an occasion.

His breeches were less defined, a soft tan lambskin pair that outlined the muscles in his legs, and, Zuko noted, left no real guess as to whether or not he was hiding weapons. Obviously Jet felt confident enough that nothing would happen at such a banquet. Thus, he had dressed accordingly, in comfortable, form-fitting clothes with no weaponry to be seen. His boots were lacquered leather, brown and shining in the candlelight of the back room. He stood leaning nonchalantly against the far wall, and for some reason, the Fire Lord couldn't help but think that there was something he had missed about him...

Shaking himself from those thoughts, he swept his gaze from Jet to Suki, who was also dressed in Earth Nation attire. Thankfully, she had abandoned her usual warrior's uniform and makeup, and the Fire Lord could tell that she was naturally more appealing to the eye without them. She wore a long, roundabout dress that left one shoulder completely bare. Dark green, much like Jet's tunic, it had a silver weave woven at the bottom, cluttered and sporadic. As the design moved upward, it lessened out, until at the waist, it stopped altogether. The same design trimmed the single sleeve and the side-swept collar.

She wore an odd, silver armband that was made of a very flexible silver-colored metal. It started at the junction of her upper arm muscles and ended at her wrist. It seemed to be a written word or phrase, perhaps her name. Zuko wondered on it for a moment before disregarding it altogether. It was beautiful to him, but nothing more than being a trinket.

She had also let her hair down, as short as it was. It had a scattering of braids and tiny jewels throughout it, and the Fire Lord didn't even want to know how long _that_ had taken. There was a light accent of kohl around her eyes and some soft pink paint on her lips and cheeks and light green and bright gold powders on her eyelids. Her green eyes stood out against her tanned skin and dark lashes. Zuko noted that she was in fact very pretty and would get many invitations to dance this night, even if most of them _were_ from Sokka.

Thinking of the young Water Tribe warrior made Zuko send his gaze in that direction. Bearing the strict colors of the Southern Water Tribe's traditional war paint, which in itself varied from that of the North Pole, Sokka had thankfully left the paint off of his face. Instead, he had taken to a deep navy tunic and a shining black leather belt about his waist. The left shoulder bore the Water Nation insignia, and his right arm sported a small silver band. His breeches were black linen and his boots had been purposely scuffed to contradict the lacquer of his belt. A bit simple for such a formal banquet, but Zuko supposed it would have to do. There wasn't much else he could make Sokka agree to wear...

Aang stood next to Sokka, conversing quietly with the older young man. The Avatar was cheerfully dressed; a compliment to his sunny disposition, and because of it, the Fire Lord had to hold back an involuntary smile. He knew that three years ago he would have scorned the bright orange and yellows the Avatar chose to wear and would've turned his gaze away in anger. Now, though, he was more prone to happiness and smiles; laughter and jesting. He supposed it had to do with all the time he'd been spending with the comical young monk.

And being a monk, Aang had begun dressing accordingly for such things as meetings and banquets. He still wore more practical clothes for teaching and training and battle and fun, of course, but the young Avatar had matured and wizened and taken to the traditional orange and yellow robes of the Airbenders before him. The wooden pendant carrying the Air Nation insignia was draped around his neck, and the blue tattoos on his head and arms and feet contrasted against the rest of his outfit and his brown leather sandals.

Misu stood off to the side of Aang and Sokka, staring off into space somewhat disinterestedly. Zuko didn't know much about the Northern Water Tribe man, and hadn't gotten to know him well in the time that he had been with the Council, but he liked and trusted him all the same. He saw no reason not to, Sokka, Aang, and Katara had nominated him for the position in his village, and no one fellow villager had protested. And since his acceptance into the Council, the Fire Lord had kept a close, discreet eye on him and had found none of his habits or mannerisms to be suspicious, though he did get this rather annoying tick in his eyebrow every now and then, but that was easily ignored.

Misu was dressed much like Sokka, though the leather on his boots and belt was brown and dull, giving him a more militaristic look. His tunic bore no fancy designs or weavings; it was just clean and crisp, much like his shining shaven head. He had a single, ever present silver ring slung through his left ear. Zuko had come into the knowledge that the ring wasn't for show, but actually had a practical use, though he didn't know quite what that was just yet. It was apparently extremely important to the warrior, however, because he never took it out, even in sleep.

Beyond Misu were Jun and Haru, who seemed to be in deep conversation about something or another. The Fire Lord assumed it had to have something to do with bending or battle strategies, judging by the way they were flailing their arms or making quick motions. That, and they were always talking or debating about something military related.

Standing in a formal Fire Nation gown, Jun was the epitome of nobility, though when Zuko had stumbled across her in the Earth Nation three years ago, that had not been so. To his knowledge, the secret bounty hunter had been the daughter of a praised noble, until his 'treachery' of the Fire Lord. Her father and family were killed, and somehow she had escaped, finding her way into the Fire Nation Militia under the alias of Jun. Zuko wasn't sure he even _knew_ her rightful name...

Her dark hair was pulled back into an elegant bun, rubies woven intricately through the strands. Her face had been powdered and paled, light as a lily blossom, her lips painted a striking red. Her eyes had been outlined in black on the bottom, gold on the lids, and shimmering red dust had been sprinkled above the gold. Her cheeks had a pink tinge, reflecting the light off of the elaborate ruby and gold earrings dangling from her ears. An extravagant pendant hung from her neck, and several bangles tinkled at her wrists. Zuko shuddered to think how long it had taken her to get ready...

And Haru, like Suki and Jet, was dressed in Earth Nation colors. He wore a dark brown tunic, trimmed in gold at the collar and sleeves, and light khaki breeches. His boots were a dusty color, shined along with his belt. A long-sleeved, khaki undershirt distinguished him from the others, who were not yet accustomed to the heat of the Fire Nation.

After examining everyone's clothes, Zuko couldn't find anything more with which to occupy himself. Dressed in his gold-trimmed, crimson plated, decorative armor, the Fire Lord had to fight to keep himself from pacing. He hadn't seen hide or hair of Katara yet, nor had he heard anything of her arrival. He had begun to worry hours ago, despite constant reassurances from Aang, and now he was three steps away from being downright fretful.

Before he could inquire about her whereabouts again, a loud and overly extravagant fanfare sounded beyond the door behind them. Knowing his cue, Zuko straightened and stepped through the doorway as his uncle introduced him. He nodded to the retired General as the older man stepped aside and took his place before the large and diverse crowd.

Looking around him, the Fire Lord realized know just what his uncle had been planning whenever he took all those expensive and tedious shopping trips during his exile. All of the curios and trinkets and tapestries he had collected over the years had accumulated to become an array of international decorations for an international banquet. Zuko had always been annoyed by his uncle's useless shopping and had often wondered what use Iroh could have for such things. Now he knew. Old and new, all of the antiques were scattered about, Fire Nation decorations mingling with Earth Nation statues, and so on and so forth. The Fire Lord noted that it reminded him greatly of the Table of Equality, and silently praised his uncle for all those hated and uninteresting shopping trips.

At least they had _some_ purpose.

Like the decorations adorning the Hall, the guests were a myriad of Nations as well. Fire Nation and Water Tribe soldiers stood together off to his left. Groups of friends consisted of peoples from all Nations, and were scattered about the room. Zuko's long-awaited vision of equality was finally coming true.

After sweeping his gaze around the room and waiting for the peoples' applause to die down, the Fire Lord turned to the door he had entered from and began to introduce the members of the Council one by one as they appeared in the doorway.

As the number of members left dwindled and Katara had still not appeared, his heartbeat began to race as disappointment settled into the pit of his stomach. Finally, after the other seven, Jun appeared, smiling brightly at him. He gave her introduction and as she walked up, he looked away from the empty doorway, his throat tightening and his spirits faltering.

Katara hadn't made it...

"Zuko!"

The Fire Lord turned, his heart leaping in his chest. There she was, just as he remembered her, for the most part. Back at the door, her cheeks pink and her chest rising and falling heavily. Apparently she'd run from her chambers. She waved at him and smiled, and he couldn't resist reciprocating. Turning back to the crowd, he let his voice carry proudly across the room.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, if I could have your attention once more..." Everyone turned, stopping mid-sentence in all conversations. He smiled, waving a hand to the doorway. "It seems we have a late arrival. Council member Katara of the Southern Water Tribe." He took a step past Jun and held out his hand to Katara, waiting for her to step forward.

Katara hesitantly came from the doorway as Zuko waited for her, his hand outstretched. As the light fell onto her form, a collective gasp filled the room. Likewise, Zuko's breath hitched in his chest

Katara was dressed in a shimmering, floor-length, red and gold dress. Slightly off the shoulders, it hugged curves that had not been there the last time Zuko had seen her, and fell gracefully to the floor, ending in a gold weave that glided across the shining black tile of the Hall. It accented her deeply tanned, flawless skin, the sleeves flaring gently until hiding her hands subtly. Her dark tresses fell in waves down her back and across her shoulders, a single, flame-shaped comb in her hair. Her mother's necklace still rests at the hollow of her neck and I honestly doubt she's taken it of since I gave it back to her three years ago. The only flaw of her skin was the edge of something peeking out of the left side of her collar, though from his point of view Zuko couldn't tell what it was.

Katara's fingertips brushed his and her cool palm came to rest in Zuko's warmer one. His fingers enclosed around her hand as shivers raced across his skin. Without thinking twice, the Fire Lord led the young woman to the dance floor as the musicians began to play.


	3. III

**III**

A woman's voice, full of snake-like venom, slithered through the darkness to the ears of him who was confined with her; the smell of rotted flesh and decaying life filtered through the atmosphere to his nostrils, so strong that he had to hold a handkerchief to his nose to keep from gagging on pure revulsion. Her plans fell from what was left of her lips in complicated phrases, slurred and raspy from her voice's lack of use. Death befell her entire being, and her companion couldn't see how she had preserved another's body as meticulously as she described without tending to herself first. He knew that if he was in her predicament, the last thought he would have would be rebellion, but rather his own life, and preserving the gift received from those of the Beyond.

He saw her eyes clearly, glowing stark against the pure black of their meeting place. He wondered why her eyes had not been the first thing to go, the eyes being as sensitive as they were. Eventually his thoughts traveled much further from the conversation at hand and he felt a wretched, scaly hand grasp his chin.

"Do you listen, Living One?" He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. Her voice grated on his ears so, and for a fleeting moment, he wished he had not made such a deal with this vile creature.

But he had, and his life was on the line because of it.

Along with so many others'.

So he nodded, and began to listen–albeit halfheartedly–to what this thing was telling him.

He would have to betray his allies, she said; he would have to murder one of his own; he would have to deny his place in the Four Nations. To defy _her_ was suicide, she said. In reality, doing either was suicide, for if she didn't kill him for betraying her, then one of his own would for betraying them.

She gave him his instructions for the night, and handed him a vial filled with a deep crimson liquid. At first, he thought it was blood–he wouldn't put it past her to assign him such a task that required the use of someone's blood–but then he found that it wasn't blood, but more of a drought, or poison maybe.

"What is this?"

She sneered, and he supposed that it was meant to be a broken, jagged, sadistic grin. He shivered.

"You'll find out soon enough, Living One. Now go, before you're missed."

He left without question, taking a deep breath of fresh air once he was away from her presence.

Katara smiled, watching Aang dancing with a young Earth Nation girl. He seemed to have grown to be the flirter in the time that she'd been gone, and quite frankly, she thought it was a good thing, even if he swore up and down that he couldn't love any one person above another and whatnot. She still thought that a little affection couldn't hurt him. It had never hurt anybody else. Not Sokka, not her . . .

Not Zuko . . .

She sighed, looking over at the Fire Lord. It seemed so strange to think of him as Lord, but that's what he was, and none could deny it.

Nor could she deny that he was quite . . . _dashing_ in his regal armor . . . She shook her head, clearing it of such thoughts to remain alert. She'd heard rumor in the field that something was to happen here tonight. That's why she'd come. Otherwise, she'd have stayed right where she was–where she was needed. As much as she'd wanted to see her friends in three years and as much as she'd wanted to extend the short visits that they may have had and as much as she'd wanted to see Zuko, she couldn't. She'd been waiting for an excuse such as this just to see them, because her duties as a member of the Nations' Council just weren't as important as her duties as a spy for them.

Duties that Zuko had yet to discover.

She hated lying to him, and she hated asking the other members make up such lavish stories for her, but she just couldn't bring herself to tell him. She had fought for so long to keep it a secret from him, and to tell him now would destroy him. She couldn't tell him that she had stayed away for his own safety, to draw assassins away and lure spies into traps. She couldn't tell him how many near-death experiences she's had the last month, much less the last three years.

She couldn't tell him how she'd missed him and thought of him and ached for him every time she saw her short life flash through before her. She couldn't tell him that she'd suffered wounds for him, been stabbed and whipped for information about him . . .

That she had a permanent mark to prove such suffering.

Because he would pull her away from that, tell her that she couldn't. He would keep her locked up in her rooms and pamper her until she went mad. He wouldn't understand. He could never understand.

Because though he valued her life, she knew that he no longer loved her as she still loved him. Such a thing was obvious from the gossip that had been flying about the Four Nations for the past year and a half.

So she held back when he touched her, listened when he spoke, and looked when he was turned away.

Because she might not ever get the chance–or the confidence–to tell him.

She watched as all the guests around the room flittered and floated about the dance floor, and listened as the chatter wafted to her ears. She smiled as a servant passed, stopping once to offer drinks to the Fire Lord, Jun, and her. Each took one of the three glasses on the platter, the servant bowed and then moved away.

Katara looked about her, then lifted the glass to eye level, staring into the burgundy wine. She swirled the liquid about and noticed a smoky appearance in the color–hers wasn't as transparent as Zuko's. She nodded to herself in approval. She'd chosen the right glass.

She waited to drink anything until Jun had left, and when she had, she pulled Zuko out on a nearby balcony. She turned to face him.

His expression was furrowed into one of confusion. She smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Katara, is something wrong?" She sighed, her smile faltering, her gaze averting from those golden eyes to rest on his silky, ebony hair.

"Zuko . . . No, nothing is wrong, I'm fine." She sipped her wine deeply. She exhaled sharply as her vision blurred. "Just . . . I–"

Zuko put a hand on her waist. "Katara . . . ?"

She looked into his eyes. "I bestow upon you the gift I was given."

He made to question her as she downed the glass. "Katara, what are you–"

Everyone in the ballroom started as two glasses shattered on the balcony and the Fire Lord called for help.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Okay, okay, I know this took AGES for me to get out, and I'm sorry. I've been super busy lately (excuses excuses) and this is a short chapter because I wanted to get it updated. I hope you like it, and if you don't, let me know. I'll work on it._

_Mucho thanks to Kherezae who finally decided to review (even if it was only once for both stories put together) and gave me the encouragement I needed to finally update._

_And thanks to Elenea Galad (did I spell that right?) for your guilt trip. You made me get off my butt and write._

_Peace Out, God Bless You , and MERRY CHRISTMAS!_

_I WILL say it here, whether I CAN or NOT!_

_Peace,_

_Luci_


	4. IV

**IV**

"_**FOOL!**_"

He grimaced as the brute-like thing struck him, trailing deep gashes along the side of his face. Blood slithered from the wound as she snarled, roughly grabbing his chin with her leathery hands. She forced him to stare into her glaring, feral eyes. He wanted so badly to clamp his eyelids shut, to look away from the fire that burned there, threatening to consume him. However, she had hypnotized him, and he could by no means tear his gaze from hers.

"Fool!" she repeated. "How could you have made such a mistake? You knew better! You _knew_ she would be there! You _knew_ her duties! You _knew_ you would need to distract her beforehand! Didn't you?"

Finally the trance broke and he glanced down. She struck him again, digging deeper into the previously wounded flesh. "_DIDN'T YOU!"_

Her victim nodded weakly and she struck him once more. He cried out. She snarled. "I shouldn't let you live after this," she said. He nodded. "I should murder you and take your life instead." Once more he nodded. "Do you think you deserve another chance?" He didn't respond. She hit him again. "_Do you?"_ He whimpered a small 'no' and she continued.

"No, you don't. Not at all. But, I'm feeling so gracious that I'll give you one more chance. But, considering your absolute stupidity, I'll have to think this one out more laboriously than the last." She rounded on him, having taken to pacing during her short monologue. "Leave, now, before I change my mind and kill you where you stand."

Without a second thought he obeyed, tearing from the doorway and the ever present stench of death that lingered whenever she was near. He bolted down the hallway, not caring if anyone saw him and the primal fear that lingered in his gaze, the blood that poured down his cheek from being struck so many times in the same place.

And for a moment he mused that she had impeccable aim, and would no doubt kill him on the first try if he screwed up once more. He ran to his room quickly, requesting towels from a servant on his way. He needed to heal himself, quickly.

* * *

The Fire Lord sat meekly by Katara's bedside, praying for her to be alright. The physicians had told him that she had drunk a poison–a poison meant for him. He gripped her limp hand tighter, feeling the tears prickle at his tightly shut eyelids. He mourned a woman that wasn't yet dead, knowing that somehow, someway, she had known there was poison in that wine and had taken it in his place. She had known that wineglass was meant for him and had risked her life for his. 

She had loved him enough to do that for him and he had doubted her affections. Now he only wished he could've taken it back; he wished he could've told her that he still cared and always would.

Now he feared he would never have the chance.

Aang stepped into the room and Zuko glanced up at him. He noticed Sokka behind him, tears streaking his face; Aang's was surprisingly stoic.

Three years ago he would've called the Water warrior weak. But now, after having been through war and battles and pain, he understood that weeping was a way of expression that needed to come about at some point in a man's life. Sokka was upset and he was showing it. Zuko understood that, now.

Aang reached a steady hand out to touch Katara's forehead. She didn't flinch and that worried Zuko. She was sleeping too deeply to be normal.

"How is she?" Aang asked. Zuko shrugged, willing the tears away. Unlike Sokka, who took no shame in crying in front of people, Zuko had always been trained not to cry. And even though he had grown out of that and begun to allow himself pain, he still wasn't humble enough to cry in public.

He swallowed hard as he looked up to Aang.

"She took the poison for me..." He said it quietly, almost whispering. Aang glanced up at him, and almost startled look that confused Zuko flashing across his eyes. He looked to Sokka and then back at the Fire Lord.

"You don't know that, Zuko," he said. Zuko sighed, dropping his head into his free hand, gripping Katara's lifeless fingers once again with the other.

"Yes, I do."

Silence met his declaration and he looked up, catching Aang staring at Sokka. His eyes slid slowly to the other man, who stood somewhat slumped, the pain still eminent on his face. It seemed as if a silent argument raged between the two. He glanced back at Aang.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked.

Aang's gaze didn't falter, though he answered in a strong, commanding tone. "There was something about Katara that we've never told you, Zuko."

Sokka snarled. "NO! You can't tell him! It's not our place!"

Aang stared at him steadily. "And whose place is it then, if she dies without telling him herself?"

"She isn't going to die!" Sokka cried.

Aang didn't waver. "And if she does?"

"Don't say that!"

"_Sokka!_ Listen to me!" Aang roared. Zuko jumped. The Avatar had never gotten so angry in his presence. Sure, he'd involuntarily activated his Avatar's Spirit, but this was different. This was pure, unbridled anger wrought from pain and frustration. This wasn't a matter of the Avatar. This was pain that Aang felt as a teenager standing beside his indisposed friend's bedside. This was frustration at Sokka for harboring some secret for too long and for being to stubborn to let it out before it was too late. And at the sound of it, Sokka stopped and stood deathly still, waiting, like Zuko.

Aang closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, emotions were finally evident in his gaze and for a moment, Zuko was reminded of the boy he had first chased so many years ago. He remembered that Aang was only fifteen.

"Sokka, listen," he said again. "I would rather Zuko not have a false guilt weighing on him for the rest of his life if she dies. Also, I don't want him angry at her for not telling him if, in the instance of her death, we have to tell him afterward. If she dies, and understand that it is a hypothetical situation that I am hoping won't happen, I want him to be able to grieve in truth like the rest of us, instead of knowing that we lied to him for years."

His eyes pleaded with Sokka, though his voice was steady. "Please, Sokka, let us tell him so that he can move past it and mourn as a man should."

The way the Avatar spoke of Katara's death made it seem imminent, and Zuko couldn't handle that. But he knew that there was some great secret that needed to be told. So instead of erupting in a blind fury, he sat, waiting.

Finally Sokka nodded, knowing he had been defeated. "You tell him. I'll go..." he trailed off, shaking his head and walking out the door, leaving Aang and Zuko with Katara.

Aang sighed and pulled a chair around the other side of the bed, slumping into it with no grace of the Avatar that had just so majestically convinced Sokka. He reached for Katara's other hand and sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Zuko... there's something Sokka and I... and Katara and Haru... and Suki and Jet and Misu never told you or Jun."

The Fire Lord stared at him. "Why?"

Aang sighed. "She asked us not to. I suppose she... wanted to protect you." He glanced down at Katara's limp form. "She always wanted to protect you."

Zuko nodded. "So what's the big secret?"

Aang looked at him, brow furrowed in what seemed to be worry. "Zuko..." he sighed again. "I suppose there's no other way but to just say it:

"Katara was–_is–_an assassin. And a spy."

The Fire Lord stared at the Avatar, then looked at the form of the girl before him. The girl he so deeply loved yet could not find the strength to say so. "How? How can this be?"

Aang replied, "She has been for quite a few years now. She infiltrated several armies, and came here from the rebel camp between the Air Nomads and the Water Tribes. At first she didn't think she'd get absence leave for the celebration last night. When we got word that she had, we told you immediately."

Everything fell into place. That was the reason for her continued absence from the Council. That was why her letters had been so cryptic and hard to understand. That was why Sokka and Aang continually avoided the subject.

"Why didn't she tell me?"

Aang shrugged. "She knew you wouldn't let her. She said you'd tell her 'No' and be done with it. She did it to protect you but in doing that she had to hurt you. I told her that once–that she was hurting you, I mean–and she said it was better than you being dead. I couldn't really disagree with her."

Zuko looked back at Aang. He bore his gaze into the younger man's. "What protection do I need?"

Aang raised his eyebrows. "You're the most wanted man among bounty hunters and assassins, Zuko."

"None have come for me."

"None have gotten as far as _you_, you mean. We've prevented that. Or rather, Katara has. She's nearly wiped out a quarter of the bounty hunters this side of the Kasekagi Mountain Range. And none have seen hide nor hair of her. None know who she is."

"But she is known?"

"And feared among bounty hunters, yes. She's the hunter of hunters, you could say."

Zuko glanced back at her. "What is she known as?"

"Pardon?"

"Her alias, what is it?"

"Oh, that. Shashi."

Zuko smiled. "Moonlight. A symbol of her strength." _How beautiful, like her._

Aang rose, walking over to him and laying a light hand on his shoulder. "She'll be okay, Zuko."

"I hope so..."

Aang sighed, and after standing for a few more moments, he left, closing the door quietly behind him. Zuko laid his head on Katara's shoulder, feeling her breathe slowly and evenly in her sleep. The tears came unbidden as he whispered her name.

"Katara... My shashi..."

* * *

_**Author's Note**: Not nearly as many words as I wanted. But I think it turned out rather nicely. That's really all I have to say._

_God Bless!_

_Luci_


	5. V

**V**

The Fire Lord sat pensively at his desk, struggling to concentrate on the report before him. From what he'd read of it, these rebels on the Water Tribe-Air Nomad border were not a variable to be ignored. His mind kept sweeping back to Katara in the sickroom and he slammed the document onto the wood in frustration, tangling his fingers into his lush black hair. He didn't have much chance to reflect however, as pattering footsteps and a boisterous voice grew steadily louder in the corridor just outside his study. The voice was that of Sokka, and he could hear Jet's distinctive footsteps crashing madly down the hallway. He knew this, of course, because Sokka was more light-footed, having lived to walk on unsteady ice and snow. On the contrary, Jet had never learned such care and generally sounded like Appa bouncing around in glee when he was careless. He could be extremely quiet at other times, though. That's what made him a good soldier, Zuko supposed, but his training didn't seem to be innate.

He glanced at a pitcher of water across the room, wishing nothing more than to be a waterbender at that very moment. He was rather surprised when a good-sized sphere lifted from the pitcher to hover for a moment. He could... oh there was no way... He could _feel_ the water hang there, suspended as though by strings linked to his–hands? He looked to see his hands in midair above the desk. He looked back at the sphere, wondering what would happen if it moved a little to the left...

In a split second, Zuko thought the door would splinter right off its hinges. The water sphere was destroyed and splashed just to the left of the glass pitcher. He let his hands fall uselessly back to the desk.

"SHE'S AWAKE!" Sokka tripped over the rug just after shouting and landed with a dull 'thud'. Jet calmly jogged up and stopped behind him. Zuko stood and glanced at Sokka's prone form for a moment, and when he lifted his head, spitting fuzz, the Fire Lord sat back down, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She's awake," Sokka repeated. Zuko looked at Jet's incredulous face.

"Sokka..." Jet started, then shook his head and let his thoughts trail into nothing.

"Is this true, Jet?" The Fire Lord propped his head on his hand, closing his eyes.

"Hmm?" Jet looked up, saw the Fire Lord, and remembered just why he was in his study. "Oh! Yes, she's awake. She asked to see you as soon as possible."

Zuko nodded, and without a word stood and left, his footsteps silent on the marble flooring.

"You're an idiot." The grumble of a voice came from seemingly nowhere and a young man shuddered in the shadows.

"Yes, Master," he whispered.

A pleased sigh fell from the same nothingness the voice had come from. "But your idiocy will not get in my way again."

"No, Master."

"You will follow the plan to the dot."

"Yes, Master."

"Good. Now leave."

"Yes, Master."

The boy was gone in a rustle of clothing. From the darkness, feral, golden eyes flared open, and a figure stepped into what light permeated the room. A woman, a young adult, half-decayed and reeking of death glided easily through her home, her rotting rags trailing behind her. A surprisingly full head of hair trailed down her shoulders and a glowing pendant encircled the remnants of her neck. Suddenly she stopped, an iron door before her. She raked a blood-stained talon down the front of it, muttering something Otherworldly under her breath. A hiss followed and she pushed the door open silently.

A dim glow surrounded a bed in the middle of the room. Lying on the bed was a middle-aged man, his silky black hair flecked with grey. The clothing he wore was extravagant, the fabrics designed for a king. The young woman knelt by the bed, resting her scaly, dead hand on his soft, pale brow. She scraped her claws through his hair.

"Soon, Father. Soon, this will all be over. Soon, you will have your throne. Soon, Zuko will fall and the world will be ours."

A knock at the door startled her, and she stood. "What?" she barked.

A quivering voice wafted from the other side of the iron. "My Lady, I have brought the Cleric."

"Let him in, then."

She turned back to the prone form on the bed, resting her hand in its previous position. The door hissed and opened, and footsteps, accompanied by the murmur of robes, approached her. She didn't turn as the Cleric spoke to her.

"Lady Zula, how are you?"

She let out a short, bitter laugh. "I'm half-dead, Cleric. How do you think I'm doing?"

She could feel the tall man smile behind her. He rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Ah, yes, but it is your death that keeps the Fire Lord alive."

She looked up at him, meeting his warm brown eyes with her amber ones. "And what, pray tell, keeps me alive?"

The Cleric's smile widened. "Why, me, my dear, and me alone."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "With the guidance of Agni, of course."

He chuckled. "Of course." They stared at one another a moment longer, before Zula turned back to her father.

"How long until we can restore his life to him?"

The Cleric breathed deeply behind her. "He's still not ready for the final life-blood, I'm afraid, but it should be soon."

"How soon?" she snapped.

He put his other hand on her remaining shoulder and leaned close to her decaying ear. "Patience, my princess, patience..." he whispered.

She glanced at him, meeting his brown gaze before everything in her world went black. Before drifting into unconsciousness, she vaguely noted that she hated him, for all that she loved him, for the power he wielded over her dead body. He was the one who kept her–and Ozai–alive. It was to him that she owed her throne, and she knew he would get his pay in the end of it all.

In full, if not with interest.

Zuko knocked lightly on the door to Katara's room, leaning his head to the door. His other hand rested on the door handle. He heard a hoarse and quiet 'come in' from the other side of the wood, and complied with a relieved sigh. The first thing he saw when he lifted his eyes to the bed were her cerulean eyes. He wanted to run to her, hug her tight and never let her go on one of her escapades ever again. He wanted to kiss her, ask her to marry him and rule with him and...

He wanted to know why he could waterbend all of a sudden.

"What did you do to me?" he asked, a little harsher than he'd intended. Surprisingly, Katara smiled at him.

"I bestowed upon you the gift I was given,"she said softly.

He furrowed his brow. "Can you do that?" She shrugged.

"It is mine to give to whomever I wish, I suppose."

He sat down on the edge of her bed, taking her small hand into his much larger one. "Where did you learn this?" he asked.

"Aang," she replied.

"How long does it last?"

She looked back up at him. "I'm not sure. I wasn't even convinced it would work when I did it. I wasn't thinking about it, really. I was much too concerned about you."

Zuko nodded, looking from their intertwined hands to her face. "About that, Katara. Why didn't you tell me?"

She shook her head. "Tell you what?"

He sighed. "You know perfectly well what..." he paused for a moment, hesistant. "Shashi..."

She shut her eyes, clenching them as if the motion would make it all go away.

"I didn't want you to know," she whispered after a moment.

"I know," he replied, just as quietly.

"I did it to protect you."

"I know. And I don't want you to do it again."

"But Zuko, I–"

"No 'but's, Katara. I won't have you risking your life for me," he said calmly. He'd learned to control his temper much better lately.

"Zuko, my life isn't nearly as important as yours!"

His eyes, which had fluttered closed simply listening to her voice snapped open, flashing dangerously. "Don't you _ever_, and I mean _ever_, say that again, Katara. Not to me, not to Aang, not to Sokka, not even to yourself. Do you understand me?"

She looked up at him pleadingly. "But Zuko–"

"Do you?" he asked, boring into her gaze with his own. Sheepishly, she nodded.

He kissed her lightly on the forehead, brushing her hair back from her face. He sighed. "Katara, I know you wanted to talk to me, and I want to talk to you, too, but I have more pressing matters weighing on my mind and desk right now." He looked into her eyes, drowning in the sheer water of them. "I promise I'll come back to talk to you tonight. I just have some rebels I need to sort out."

She sat up abruptly. "Zuko! That's–" he shushed her, lightly pressing two fingers to her lips and pushing her back down to her pillows.

"I promise," he whispered, kissing her once more on her brow. Silently he left, like a ghost, almost, back to his study.

Katara sighed as the door closed. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about..." she murmured to the stiff wood that blocked her voice from his ears.

She hoped he wouldn't make any decisions until tomorrow. She had to tell him what she knew, what she had learned. He didn't know who–_what_–these rebels were. He didn't know what they were planning. He didn't know _why_ he was their target, if he even knew that he was. He didn't know who was leading them.

He didn't know that his sister was back from the dead, waiting to revive Ozai with Zuko's life-blood.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Okay, it took forever, and it's around three-hundred forty-something words, short, but here it is. I hope you like it. Most of it, save for the FIRST PARAGRAPH was written today. In the past hour. Yay. Anyway, I hope you like it._

_I love you all!_

_God Bless you, I'll be praying for you, whoever, wherever you are._

_Love,_

_Luci_


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